


Flowey Feeling

by athirstygoil



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Child Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Past Character Death, don't abuse flowers kid!, mention of floral abuse, then they probably just want to end you, they just wanna live and grow and get pollinated, unless they're Flowey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athirstygoil/pseuds/athirstygoil
Summary: Flowey vows to maintain what little happiness Toriel has left, even if it's all on a monster he doesn't even know.





	Flowey Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came from [this comic](https://utfruitsalad.tumblr.com/post/161831965326/sans-promise-to-flowey-spoilers-so-i-recently-had) by utfruitsalad
> 
> I like the idea that Flowey still retains some emotions, otherwise why else would he go out of his way for Toriel? Also, sometimes y'just need some happy Flowey feels. c:
> 
> I've had this in my docs since like November of last year, so I'm very glad it's finished!

He never really felt anything beyond what was necessary. Base things, really. Like if he was threatened, curious, or if he was just flat out frightened (as if _anything_ truly scared him lately.) It didn’t mean he didn’t feel in general it just meant that...whatever he _did_ feel, it couldn’t be love.

Being a sentient flower could have been worse, for all he knew. At their worst, other monsters would rip him from the ground and pluck his petals if given the chance. If not stomp him at first sight. No one really cared for flowers here. Not even Mom. Not like Asgore at least.

Sometimes Flowey wondered why he didn’t uproot and go live with Dad. He loved flowers. He loved caring for them, nurturing them. But deep down, Flowey knew he wouldn’t be an ordinary flower to dear old dad if he let himself slip. After all, the only other flowers that talked here were blue and echoed. Flowey, being none of those, wouldn’t be able to hold up the farce for long. 

Besides, being King, Dad wouldn’t have time beyond watering him if he went. He had loads of other responsibilities. Mom just had the Ruins. 

She did, even on her worst days, come and visit. She’d kneel over the bed of yellow flowers that grew under the sparse sunlight and bow her head low, watering them with her tears. And Flowey would pretend that she was apologizing to him. To both of them. That all the regret in the whole Underground accumulated in the moment she stepped into the clearing.

She’d leave little gifts next to the flowerbed on occasion. (And he’d watch each time as every little thing withered or slump forgotten like the sorry relics they really were.) She’d read aloud a story she found interesting. (And he’d listen to her voice break every time she even tried to smile for the ghosts of her beloved children she was certain were watching her.) She’d talk about the happenings of the Ruins, and how many Froggits and Whimsuns newly populated the abandoned houses. Not many were left, now that everyone else moved on. (Each time she’d count and recount, he’d watch the light sink from her eyes ever so slightly until she’d contemplatively wander away.)

Sometimes something would get her to run to the grave beaming. 

“A child has fallen,” Toriel would say, Mom would say. “A child--” Tears would well in her eyes and she’d whisper. “I wish you could meet them.”

When she wasn’t with the new human, she’d talk all about them, how they looked like, their temperament.

Flowey never found it too interesting. He was just glad to see his Mom happy for once. Times like those were few and far between for her. For him.

He felt his happiness through her, though internally there was nothing. 

The Humans That Fell were few and far between as well. They would leave one way or another. Each time was bittersweet. It always was, because it made Mom sad. And Flowey would never hear of them again. That only meant each one was one step closer to Monster Freedom. (Flowey sometimes forgot about The Barrier, living day by day.) Ever since the Third and Fourth Humans, Toriel had begun to assert a stricter method of foster parenting. (He had on more than one occasion, smelled the embers as they burned through fabric, through flesh when they ventured too far down the basement. He wasn’t sure of the outcome then, only that that Child eventually escaped too. ~~Much to Toriel’s displeasure and shame.~~ )

Flowey knew her reasons, but he also knew theirs. Kids had a passionate drive to move forward. So explore they did, even though it led to their demise. They’d never come back. And each time, a piece of Mom died with them.

It came to the point that she wouldn’t visit the flowery gravesite anymore than a few minutes. And those minutes would be spent in silence. 

Flowey hated that more than watching her cry. So he prayed to whatever entity that watched over them to send down a reason to make her happy. Even for a short while. Even for a moment.

He’d never thought his prayers would be answered so soon.

\--

The light of the fireplace flickered as she read. Just another day. Flowey took to blending into the flowers in the vase on the dining table. Just so he could keep an eye on her, he’d tell himself. So he could be certain--in some way--that she was taking care of herself. That she was _alright._

The noise was almost so faint they almost didn’t hear it. Until they heard it again. 

Toriel removed her spectacles and squinted. Waiting, listening. Her ears perked the moment she realized what it was.

A knock.

On The Door.

Shutting her book, she near-tossed it on her chair and clamored to the stairwell. Long, large legs strided through the hallway as the knocking became more apparent, more distinct. And now, so close, so close, she could hear a voice. She thought her soul would burst from her chest.

And at the next knock, she answered it.

“Who is there?”

The voice, low and surprised, replied.

“who.”

“Who who?” she asked, confused.

“must be an owl living here then,” she heard a snicker.

Startled, her thoughts raced for a comeback.

“Would...wood you believe me when I say you’re barking up the wrong tree?” Stunned silence. Then amused laughter.

“nah,” they chuckled, “you gotta be _twigging_ me. i'd _leaf_ you alone.”

“Oh no, don’t do that,” she almost cried out, “I’m no bite and all _bark_ after all.” And she could hear the smile that cracked as the Voice on the Other Side spoke again.

“guess you got me _rooted._ you gonna make like a tree and _branch_ out a bit then?”

“I think _knot!_ ”

And as her howls of laughter floated up to her living room, Flowey almost didn’t know what to think.

She was genuinely laughing again. _Mom was laughing--_

And though inside he couldn’t feel love, determination swelled in his soulless form. Whatever just happened changed everything.

This was the answer he was looking for.

\---

It became routine with Mom to joke with the Voice on the Other Side. Enough that when Flowey summed up the backbone to do the same, he was ready. The last ditch effort for his Mom’s happiness, all on this stranger who kept her smiling for longer than anything else could. With a deep breath, he coughed and gathered all his courage. (Not like it was misplaced, Flowey had no idea who this was, even with the occasional banter. He didn’t venture too far from the Ruins these days. Not when he got the chance to witness his mother at her happiest in years.)

“Can you promise me something?” he asked in his mother’s voice, (and he heard it crack, like the weight of his plea was heavier than he intended.) “if a human comes out of The Ruins, watch over them. Protect them--” swallowing, Flowey wondered how even as a flower, he could suddenly have a dry mouth-- “will you not?” He heard their hesitance, their surprise at such a request. “Please promise,” Flowey insisted, in near tears. If he could conjure all the remorse his mother had for him and his sibling’s death, then he could at least force one to roll down his face.

He wouldn’t be surprised if they had said no--he’d find another way, he would--but they didn’t.

“...okay,” they said. “i promise.”

And the words echoed in Flowey’s head as a single tear slipped from his eye.

_i promise._

Common sense told him it was a terrible idea to hinge all his Mother’s happiness on a single stranger he knew only by voice; but if it meant Flowey wouldn’t ever have to see Toriel sad again, it was worth it.

 _She_ was worth it.


End file.
